Life on the high seas
by Bleach-ed-Na-tsu
Summary: Arthur was a gentleman, a pirate, but a gentleman. His life changed when he met a young runaway and a cryptic frenchman. When the government threatens his son he must make a decision not many ever have to. Become a country or let his son die. Non-historc


**Okay... so I've done it again, I've started a new story that probably will never be updated and that will be the death of me. However I could care less, I'm enjoying myself and I hope you enjoy it when I update or upload new stories and chapters.**

**WARNING! (somewhat?): First off, this is my first APH where I'm going to actually make a story line, let alone it being a Pirate!England story... also bear in mind I am not a Pirate... nor a historian... so little, if any of my facts and figures will be correct, so be warned. AU with both country and human names used, though the country names won't be used until much later in the story should you lovely people decide to keep reading it!**

**WARNING! There are some swear words in here that I feel need to be used, some are in context of their actual meaning, and others are just their usual, vulgar selves- so please bear in mind that if you are offended by obscene swearing you may be offended by lines and paragraphs within this story.**

**Please enjoy despite the spelling and grammar mistakes I am prone to.**

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><p><strong>Life on the High-seas<strong>

Yo ho! A pirate's life for me.

Arthur thought himself a gentleman, maybe not to the standard of the uptight snobs that resided in their large houses on the shore, but a gentleman none the less. He was a proud Englishman, he knew proper etiquette, and he had exceptional English that he was _not _afraid to flaunt in front of any man's face. Sure he wasn't always calm, and he certainly wasn't always quick to hold his tongue, on the contrary he was sharp tongued and an arrogant fool most of the time; but a gentleman no less.

Standing with his thick arms crossed over his chest he watched the men mill around before him on the deck of the boat he commandeered many a year ago now. As he watched them grunt and shout profanities to each other in both meaningful and brotherly banter he smirked slightly, a truly devilish smirk at that; he most certainly was a gentleman, especially compared to the men he called crew and family.

He was much different to them, he mused delightedly to himself; while they were burly, built like the trees that made up his ship, Arthur was lean, not weak by any stretch of the imagination, but he did well to hide his strength beneath the colourful, masterfully crafted panels of his crimson jacket. Smirking with a grin that sent shivers deep into even the battle-hardened men, Arthur twisted the emerald broach holing his lapel in its place.

He looks at the sparkle that matches his slanted eyes and his smirk grows into a sadistic grin, he remembered the day he acquired the rare gem; he still had the cutlass in his quarters that he had used to spear the previous owner's left eye- it was simply a courtesy visit- the man had _dared_ to try and con Arthur, and he certainly couldn't settle for that now could he?

He was much, much different than the men who were currently completing the duties assigned to them by himself Arthur found himself thinking, with a soft grin that still left fear and lust rippling through all, however, Arthur was also exactly the same as these hardened to the point that killing was passé, he too bore scars upon his ripped chest and back. His arms were littered with the 'glory-trophies' and his legs and shoulders showed the burden he carried with pride and an arrogance he had earned himself, after all there wasn't a man woman or child upon the earth or sea who didn't know his name, he was Captain Arthur Kirkland- captain of the _Crown's Plague_.

Arthur had just been a young lad when he ran from his no good wench of a mother and from that bastard father of his. He was the tender age of nine when he left his home, a single burlap sack slung over his shoulder and nothing more than that to his name. He had immediately sought out the most dangerous life he could, because if he was going to leave behind and start anew, where better to start than out at sea with the sea-dogs who followed no one but themselves and created a world where their word was law. Now, that was certainly something that appealed to Arthur, he often thought himself a prince among swine- he was arrogant even as a young child- though of course to live he lived a swine's life 'til the day he ran to the docks.

He remembered little of his child-hood, he remembered having an older brother of some kind, and he remembered the day that some strange twist of fate had left the family only three strong when something happened at the docks his brother had worked at. He only remembered the fact that at that point in time there was no longer a big brother in his life.

What little he did remember was of back hands and black eyes. Some Arthur himself inflicted upon his prey, others by the bastard drunk and the wench of a mother when he came home sporting his fair share of glory marks upon his skin.

He did however remembered his father sitting him down upon his strong knee- before the alcohol and grief got to him. Arthur could remember a plethora of tales, weaved in that musky, authoritative voice of his father during his time sober. The tales were of his days in the navy, the English navy Arthur was obliged to remember, he was a top ranking officer which in turn made him wealthy and never without companionship when he and his crew docked in countries far from their English home. Of course Arthur didn't care for these 'companions' or even the tales of their once wealthy life, he was more interested in the countries his father had seen, the people and the bounties he had seen.

"_One day m' boy, one day, when you be fully ready and grown, maybe you'll have your own ship and a hardy crew to go with it. An' maybe one day you'll visits the lands I speak of, an' maybe you'll find new, fantastical lands that you can one day give your children to inherit. Yo' must work hard though m' boy. Yo' cannot hope t' be a cap'n if you cannot handle yo'self."_

That was one of the last things Arthur could remember his father ever telling him sober, of course, they made an impression, and even when he wanted nothing to do with the family that had once loved him, he couldn't avoid the words' impact, so that's where he started.

He found himself a captain whom would take him- though he had to fight for that right- and he started his grand adventure.

The captain was by no means a gentle man. He was harsh, brash, and had a tongue coarser than barnacles. Arthur never respected a man more.

His name was Captain Mustang. He was middle aged, in his early thirties, a long black beard hung below his square chin and he had half a mouth of teeth. His eyes were the colour of rotting fish guts and his hand was a sharp blow to any man. He took pride in his crew and demanded respect and submission- all of which Arthur was willing to give him.

He learned many things quickly under the man's tutelage, how to tie ropes, how to cook, how to swab a deck 'til it gleamed. Yes, Arthur learned many a thing. Some things he learned weren't taught to him by the captain; after all he was a busy man and was far too busy to teach a bratty lad, so the crew took up the challenge.

Unbeknownst to most of the British and the world, pirates weren't all bad language and disgraceful English; they were about treasure, loyalty, blood, and family. Each man had a story- some they were willing to share and others they weren't- but each had sought out one thing; that one thing they found aboard the pirate ship, acceptance.

"Now m' lad." Arthur suppressed the shudder- he hated being called lad. "You'll be needing t' learn t' use these here wep'ns." A cutlass and gun were tossed at Arthur, his hand whipped out for the cutlass first; he swung it in his hand and used it to catch the gun by its trigger.

A low whistle sounded from the new tutor. "Fancy stuff you have there m' boy. It seems we will teach y' the sword first."

Those lessons were the harshest Arthur had ever been taught, to this day the scars on his body remained, and they were by far his most prominent. The men- his brothers and uncles- were believers in learning through experience, and learn he did. Within a month of his weapons lessons Arthur was as good as any sea-experienced pirate. The cutlass was his greatest gift, he was thorough, and he was precise. The men teased him, called him a sculptor, but Arthur took pride in the fact he could cut the belt off the man without taking the flesh beneath the belt at the same time.

His musket, while better than most boys his age, was not his favourite weapon, Arthur figured that a gentleman's weapon was a cutlass. If he was going to injure or kill his enemy, then he should do it with his hands, and he should feel his enemy dying. A musket, while convenient for a quick kill, made it so Arthur could not truly tell if his enemy was dead.

Apart from that, Arthur learned a great many things, and he quickly went up the ranks until he was second in command to the newest captain when he was in his early teens.

Over the years they had had three captains, the one who took Arthur in as a boy had been killed while plundering a naval ship. The captain after him had been the man who had taught Arthur about the cutlass, he had died when he fell into the sea during a fight with the pirates of '_La Vie'_. The new captain has been his second in command and had been the man who taught Arthur about family.

When finally he died of scurvy during a dire time for the crew, the newest captain took the wheel, he was Arthur's surrogate father, and Arthur was the second in command. By this time Arthur was the striking age of sixteen and was one of the senior members of the crew. Many of the older men had died during the scurvy scare and that left Arthur and few older men left of the original crew. Many of the crew were the younger boys Arthur had helped train, and he could proudly say the boys were just shy of being perfect pirates.

Of course, Arthur had filled out nicely over his some six years at sea. He had roping muscles and was able to run up and down the main mast quicker than any of the crew could run from Stern to Bowe.

However, it was his seventeenth year that he lost his surrogate father and commandeered the ship. They were sailing the great sea, going everywhere and nowhere, it had been a while since they saw another ship, but Arthur wasn't worried, he was waiting to find land.

He had stationed himself in the crow's nest, as he often did when he was bored or could not sleep. He watched the stars and charted them; his keen eyes had always been an asset to the crew because he could plot the night sky just shy of a thumbs distance of the actual spot in the sky. It was while he was plotting what looked to him to be new sky that he heard the scuffle on the deck.

It wasn't unusual for some of the crew to become a little rowdy, especially after a night of hard drinking, but this was different, this was a confrontation between the captain and one of the original crew members.

Arthur watched cautiously, he was too far away to hear the men, but their gestures were hurried and angry, or at least the crew member's actions were, the captain had taken a lazy, calm posture, and that seemed to irritate the crew member ever more greatly.

All of a sudden, with no warning that Arthur could see, the man drove a cutlass through the captain's chest. The men stopped their bickering, and the air grew even more silent. Arthur dropped his maps and drawing equipment and felt his eyes widen painfully as he watched the captain stagger and fall to his knees.

Not really knowing what was happening, Arthur was upon the man, cutlass drawn and slashing at the man who was momentarily unarmed. It did last long though; soon enough the crew member had a cutlass and was parrying Arthur's angry slashes perfectly.

Arthur called and cried and screamed at the man, he demanded to know why he had slain their captain. The man didn't answer, he didn't answer until the entire crew had made their way into the deck, their eyes widened at the sight, but none moved, only a few men- Arthur's subordinates- moved to the captain's side to see if they could ease his pain.

"Yo' m' lad are an arrogant bastard. You are a swine that should have never been allowed on ar' decks." He spat as he parried Arthur's sword strikes.

"And why, my friend do you say that? What gives you th' right to say that about me?" Arthur spat back angrily.

"Yo' is bad luck. We've gone thro' more cap'ns since yo' been on boar' then we 'av in all my years." He spat. "And that bastard wench of a boy is a foo' to le' yo' be 'is sec'nd."

Arthur stopped then; his face tore into a sneer that left the crew, and the man he was fighting, reeling away. "You dare!" he seethed, his voice wasn't loud, but it was in such a tone that left no one arguing. "You bloody bastard. You dare to mock me, and I will take that. But if you think I will stand here, listening to you badmouths our captain, and you my fucking fool have another thing coming." Arthur's English took on that high and mighty tone he often tried to drown, because he often got prejudiced against for being more educated than the rest of the crew.

The silence was broken only by Arthur's charge, and the slick sound of a cutlass slicing flesh. The man gargled for a moment, flailed on the end of Arthur's sword before Arthur slashed down and left him bleeding on the deck. "You are a fucking swine. You were never worthy of our crew."

Rushing over to his captain, still keeping that grace and power that only large cats held, Arthur knelt down and sat the man up, almost cradling him in his arms. The man was not in a good state, and Arthur knew he was breathing his last.

"Arthur m' boy." The man strained. "Yo' hav' become one fin' pira'." He wheezes, blood splattering his lips as he breathed out. "I know our cap'n would be might proud o' yo'." With another wheeze the man lifted his hands to his hat; he lifted the fabric, splattered with blood and sweat, and placed it upon Arthur's head. "Lead this here ship m' boy, cause it be yo's now."

The man's hand went limp and his body flopped in Arthur's arms, the entire crew knew what had happened, it was only two years ago that the man lying dead in Arthur's arms had received the hat now sitting on Arthur's crown. So one by one, each member of the crew knelt on his right knee, they bowed their head and watched as Arthur stood, a distant expression on his face, and turned to address them.

"Head for the west my lads; we're going to give the cap'n a proper sending off."

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><p><strong>So this is my take on pirate!Arthur. <strong>

**Be **_**warned**_**now**_**,**_** this story won't be updated regularly, it is simply a muse of mine that I believe will be finished eventually, all the chapters are planned out so thoroughly that it is just a case of me having the time and drive top write them.**

**If tjhis is received well it might be updated with my other fics, of not it will be a gradual update.**

**Please review.**

**~~Bleach-ed-Na-tsu :3**


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